


heat death

by elibe



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 06:18:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elibe/pseuds/elibe
Summary: Lucius is beautiful, but he is not weak. He sings when he wraps bandages around the injured; chants hymns, haunting and unfamiliar, when he steps upon the battlefield. He glows when he runs his forefinger over the tattered pages of a tome. He speaks and heaven commands.





	heat death

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like so many people underestimate lucius when in reality he is .. scarily powerful. idk i wanted to expand upon that. happy pride month here are the boys !

Where Lucius, goes, light follows.

There are whispered rumors that Lucius is the reincarnation of Saint Elimine Herself. They are silly, of course, and borderline sacrilegious in Lucius’ eyes. Raven understands, though — his golden-spun hair gives him the illusion of an ever-present glow of light. Raven even can see the resemblance between him and the Saint when his eyes pass stained-glass murals and vibrant paintings adorning church walls. Lucius could pass as an angel, he thinks. Perhaps he is one.

All of this leads unfortunate foes to underestimate the priest. Because he is thin and tall and soft, he must be weak, they think, and Raven curses them for their ignorance.

Lucius is beautiful, but he is not weak. He sings when he wraps bandages around the injured and chants hymns, haunting and unfamiliar, when he steps upon the battlefield. He glows when he runs his forefinger over the tattered pages of a tome. He speaks and heaven commands. Lucius strikes his enemies down with the power of Saint Elimine Herself, and they still have the gall to call him feeble. Lucius stares them down in their final moments, daring them to question his ability as they waste away to sacred flames.

Lucius is not fragile by any means. He steps over bloodied bodies of comrades and foes alike with the grace of a deer. When he stumbles upon the injured, he presses his hands into open wounds to stop their bleeding and whispers words of encouragement under his breath. After hours of mending and healing Lucius scrubs and scrubs his skin clean of any blood until his hands are swollen and red. He stays up late scribbling spells and prayers into muddied notebooks, for even the smallest chance of saving a life is worth a restless night.

Lucius weeps for those that have fallen by his own hands. He begs the Saint for forgiveness when he cannot save the injured, when he uses up the last bit of vulnary to ease their passing because nothing else can be done. He kisses their foreheads and holds them when they shake. Raven cannot count the number of vigils Lucius has led with prayers uttered in shaky breath. He asks for the gods to bless the dead, and the gods comply.  If he cries into Raven’s shoulder when they are alone, the mercenary says nothing of it, and only offers his scarred arms for his lover to rest in.

When the army finds Aureola, the divine weapon wielded by Saint Elimine Herself, of course Lucius is the prime candidate to make use of it. People start taking the priest more seriously when he carries the holy tome, clutched tight and tucked under his arm. _It’s about damn time,_ Raven thinks. Lucius admits to feelings of guilt; disbelief. He doesn't think himself worthy of such an honor. Raven angrily prays to Saint Elimine for the first time in years and demands Her to convince him otherwise.

Raven thinks he is worthy of salvation as Lucius touches him with the same hands that have brought both death and life to countless men. His own palms are calloused and blistered from the leather-wrapped grip of his sword, but the holy man's are soft and tender. He sighs into Lucius' skin.  _I'd kill for you,_ he says. _Swear to me you won't,_ Lucius responds. Raven can feel the acolyte's lips form the words against his sternum. He cannot make that promise, so he stays silent, and Lucius is unsurprised.

Lucius’ skin is aflame when he presses his palms against Raven’s ribs or the small of his back. His hair frames his head like a halo and Raven thinks he is burning alive when the priest’s fingers dig into his shoulders. Lucius traces the former lord’s scars with his lips and Raven’s blood thrums in his ears. When he meets Lucius’ gaze he stares into the sun until his vision is blurry and distorted. Heat death isn’t such a bad way to go, Raven thinks, and lets himself succumb to it.


End file.
